


Five times Sherlock Holmes didn't think himself worthy of John Watson (and one time he did)

by ColdeLinke



Series: 5 times + 1 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdeLinke/pseuds/ColdeLinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Sherlock Holmes didn't think himself worthy of John Watson (and one time he did)

1.

She’s worried about him, he realizes quickly. 

_"Oh my god. Oh my god. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?"_

That’s good. Very good. She obviously knows who he is, so John told her about him. That means he trusts her. _God_ , he thinks, John was proposing to her. Of course he was. She’s beautiful — according to social standards, at least. She’s smart (" _Oh, he would have needed a confidant…"_ ). She works at the clinic. She’s a romantic and she even approves of him. She’s perfect for John. Better than Sherlock ever was, than he ever will be. 

And John, dear John, ordinary John (but no, never ordinary, brave, extraordinary and perfect John), of course he doesn’t care about Sherlock anymore, after two years spent grieving him and all for nothing, for _no one_ , since there was no one dead. He must hate him. Sherlock snorts. He _does_  hate him. Tonight was proof enough. John is probably never going to go on cases with him anymore, he’s certainly not going to live to Baker Street with Sherlock. Eventually, they might become friends again, but it’ll never be the same. Never, because Sherlock is _stupid, stupid, stupid._

 

  
2. 

 _Into battle_. Ready to face the music. (Ready to have his heart broken up again and again, as if once wasn’t enough). 

For a moment, standing there in front of all the guests, he wonders what is the most difficult thing to do. To give his approval to Mary (" _Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable"_ ) or to confess his love, without anyone realizing that that’s what it is. This is Sherlock’s last chance to tell his best friend that he is in love with him. But no one, not even dear precious John, understands the meaning behind his words. Were Mycroft there, he would. But what good would that do? And, in any case, John is already married. To Mary. Sweet, attentive Mary. The perfect person for John. He doesn’t even deserve to stand there, as the best friend of the groom, giving a speech that ultimately betray John’s trust. 

This is a betrayal far greater than any he has done in the past, even the Fall is less worse than this. If John knew… If John knew, what would he do? Leave? He’s already done that. Abandon Sherlock? That too. Reject him? Marrying Mary is rejection enough. If John knew, he would never speak to Sherlock again. Because Sherlock is a selfish man, bitterness and hatred run through his veins rather than blood. Sherlock is nothing, _nothing_  compared to Mary. He is nothing at all, just the shell of a man that used to exist and who tried to deprive himself from feelings. It hasn’t been successful, it seems. 

Time to resort to something else that has never been successful, not even in the beginning. 

 

  
3. 

How could he have been blinded by sentiments, yet again? How could he have not seen who Mary truly was, her past and mistakes. Does she truly deserve John now? She might. It pains him to say so, but who knows now? He certainly doesn’t. He is blind and he is tainted. He knows for sure _he_ doesn’t deserve John. At all. He is a killer, maybe he always was. Maybe the others were right, Sally, Anderson, _everyone_. Maybe he is a psychopath, and does John deserve a psychopath? No. But then Mary doesn’t deserve John either. The bullet previously lodged in his chest is proof of that. That’s a relief in and in itself. But will John see it that way? Will he forgive Sherlock if he cannot forgive Mary, fully, entirely? 

As he says his last goodbyes to John, he hesitates. Should he confess one more time, clearer this time, so that John knows, and can do nothing about it, or would that be too cruel? (" _Bit not good, yeah")._  He changes his mind at the last minute, John’s voice in his head if not in real life. He sees John’s face, the barely-hidden panic when Sherlock starts his confession. John thinks he will see Sherlock again, John does not want to know about Sherlock’s feelings, John doesn’t want complications. So Sherlock jokes, " _It was worth a try"_  and wants to say " _Don’t you see, John, don’t you see what you’ve done to me? You’ve shattered me to pieces and I am barely standing. You have left me breathless and you have taken my oxygen away. How glad I am that in such a little time I will no longer need you to breathe, that I will be able to let go without seeing your face staring at him with disappointment, your voice disapproving of my drowning, of my leaving you, all over again"._ But is he? Is he glad that he will never see John again, never hear his voice, never joke, never play for him, never stare willfully at John’s lips, smile, nose, John’s whole body.

He allows the tears to fall in the plane, mourning for a lost friend, a relationship that never was, a life that never will be. 

 

  
4. 

It is odd seeing John back in his old armchair, to see him drink his tea and stare into oblivion, to watch him go up to his old bedroom and to strain his ears to hear John getting ready to sleep and later on, his soft snores. John, who has lost his smile along with his wife and child. A child that was never his. A wife that loved him too much, with a past too full of wrongness that cannot be repaired. It is odd and heartbreaking and making Sherlock feel helpless. He has played for John, made him tea, brought him the papers — and didn’t tell him what was in it —, let him take his shower first. He does these tiny things, things to try and make John smile, but none of them work. John looks exhausted and dreary to go back to a life that seems to have happened ages ago. 

How can Sherlock help him? He hasn’t figured it out yet, if he ever will. He was always lacking in the knowing-what-to-do department when it comes to emotions. He is hating it now more than ever.

(And again, again, how does he make this about himself? How can he ever deserve such a man when he, himself, is selfish and arrogant and a coward unlike any others?)

 

  
5. 

Slowly, John starts to smile again, he notices Sherlock’s efforts and rolls his eyes at him (" _I am not a freaking doll, you know. I am not so easily broken"_ ). He starts going on cases again and ignores Sherlock’s concerned look when they arrive on a crime scene with the victims being a mother and her child. He jokes and argues with Sherlock about body-parts in the fridge (and under the sofa, though he doesn’t know about that one yet). He goes to work and comes back either content or exhausted. He makes tea and reads the newspaper aloud for Sherlock. He suggests a movie to watch, chuckles when Sherlock finds something to hate about it. 

He follows Sherlock when he goes into chase, without question, as he used to. He saves people’s lives, some they don’t know, others they do (Lestrade, Wiggins, Sherlock _, always Sherlock)._ Sherlock has killed a man (" _He wasn’t a very good man"_ ) and John saves lives. Of course John has killed before, but it’s different (" _isn’t it"_ , Sherlock whispers to himself when he’s in the safety of the darkness of his bedroom; " _isn’t it, isn’t it Sherlock, isn’t it"_ ). 

John is good, loyal, brave. Sherlock is a despicable nothing that should be dead. 

 

  
+1. 

John’s mouth crashes against him in a fury, his lips curved into a grin, tongue slipping in unnoticed. Sherlock freezes against him, the thoughts of him being unworthy of John Hamish Watson resurfacing. 

"God, I have dreamt of kissing these lips so many times," John whispers and Sherlock forgets about thoughts, forgets about logic and reason. Instead, he listens to his instincts and he kisses John back. 

They end up in the bedroom, somehow. John straddling Sherlock’s hips, their cocks brushing against the other in the most wonderful way, drawing up moans from their throats. Sherlock’s eyes are wide open and fixated on John. He is silent, admiring everything he can while he still can, afraid of having that taken away from him. 

"You’re gorgeous," John says as he kisses his way up from Sherlock’s chest to his jaw. Sherlock shudders and gasps when he feels a hand touch his cock. "So amazing," he whispers as he cups Sherlock’s face, his hot breath as he kisses Sherlock’s forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks and finally his lips. 

"Perfect, _perfect,_ absolutely perfect," he groans as he finally slides into Sherlock, and starts thrusting.   
"John, Joh —"  
"Shh, I've got you. I’ve got you Sherlock."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that English is not my native language. Also, this has not been beta-read nor brit-picked.  
> Also this is a series now. Apparently. (I like those 5 times + 1, even though this one is kind of bad).  
> Hope you enjoyed! Don't hesitate to come speak to me on tumblr (cursedangelbrokenman) or to give me prompts etc :)


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